The Undisputed Lightweight Champion
by silent-five
Summary: Drunken Rachel is a force to be reckoned with. Fluffy  and hopefully funny  oneshot.


**The Undisputed Lightweight Champion**** BY JESSA**

**RATING/GENRE:** T/Romance, Humour

**FANDOM/CHARACTERS:** Glee/Future Finchel

**SUMMARY:** Drunken Rachel is a force to be reckoned with. Fluffy (and hopefully funny) oneshot.

**DISCLAIMER:** Rachel, Finn and all things Glee are the property of Fox.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** There is like zero plot here. Zero. It's basically just pointless fluff and a lot of rambling that got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave. Drunken Rachel was just too funny and inspirational.

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry was a veritable mess.<p>

Finn had only seen her drink on four previous occasions.

The three instances in the middle had been very tame, social drinks with a few of her Broadway higher ups. During those sorts of meetings with directors and such, Rachel liked to keep it neat and professional, which meant one drink tops. More than that and, being the tiny lightweight she was, her dignity went out the window.

The very first time he'd seen her drunk was in high school and while it had certainly not been pretty, it didn't hold a candle to that fifth time at the closing night party for the insanely successful Broadway revival of West Side Story. Rachel had rocked the role of Maria and was celebrating accordingly.

At the beginning of the night, Finn had found her slight tipsiness absolutely adorable. She was still (for the most part) coherent and using her abnormally vast vocabulary. The only indication that she was at all affected by the alcohol came when she attempted to dance or in the way that she was more comfortable with a dash of P.D.A. The dancing part was hilarious because she pulled out classic moves like The Sprinkler and The Disco Point, and the P.D.A. part, well, that was just awesome for obvious reasons.

As the night wore on, she started inching into sloppy drunk territory. Usually by this point, Finn knew well enough to call it a night and drag her home before she really got out of hand. Unfortunately that night he had been blindsided by Rachel's leading man, who they suspected had a bit of a crush on him. Even though Finn was flattered, the way her co-star so blatantly undressed him with his eyes made the taller man _very_ uncomfortable.

In the time it took Finn to politely extract himself from conversation with his quasi-stalker, Rachel had managed to be coerced by some chorus girls into knocking back three more glasses of wine (on top of her first two) and four shots of tequila. When he finally caught up with her, she was surrounded by giggling girlfriends who were cheering her on as she geared up for her fifth tequila shot.

"Rach," he said warily as he slipped into place beside her, his hand coming to rest lightly on her lower back. "I think its time to give it a rest."

She either didn't hear him over the shrill chants of her name or chose to ignore him and tipped the shot into her mouth, slamming the glass back down on her table once it was empty. She wiped some excess alcohol off her mouth with the back of her hand and the action caused her red lipstick to smear across her face so she looked like The Joker. Finn had to bite back a bark of laughter.

"Rachel?" he tried again, using her full name (something which he rarely did after being with her for, like, _ever_.) for a more stern effect. "How 'bout we call it a night and grab a cab?"

Her head swivelled unsteadily in his direction and her huge brown eyes, now glassy and dazed, stared up into his face. Blinking slowly, it took her a moment to form a response. Finn knew he really had to get her home and get some water into her or the night would take a serious turn for the worse.

"Finn! Did you see me! I jus' did a whoooole bunch of teq… tequila shots. They tasted sooooo gross at first but then I couldn't even taste 'em anymore!" she told him, sounding entirely too proud of herself, like a sixth grader that was bragging about placing first at the science fair.

"I'm sure you'll taste them just fine when they come back up," he muttered to himself.

Rachel whimpered and pouted in protest when he gently guided her off of the barstool she was barely perched on and steered her towards the coat check. Standing up was a massive challenge for her alcohol soaked system and Finn was all but holding her up as she staggered along side him. Her tiny body felt like a sack of potatoes, leaning into his side.

"Why do we have to go home_ now_?" she asked.

Finn could hear the beginnings of a tantrum on her voice and internally prepped himself to deal with it, feeling more like a babysitter than a boyfriend.

"Why can't I have more tequila? I was on a rooooooll back there!"

Laughing in spite of himself, Finn replied, "Yes, babe, you sure were."

"Finnnnnny?" Rachel asked as they waited for their coats. "Can you make me a grilled cheese when we get hoooome?"

He gave her a funny look.

"But you don't eat cheese."

"I know," she responded simply, leaving him confused and hoping she'd forget about the sandwich so he wouldn't have to deal with her flipping out tomorrow about him letting her ruin her strict vegan diet.

Rachel laid her head down on the counter of the coat check window and sighed heavily, her eyelids only half open.

"My body is all numb. It feels soooo heavy."

"Is that your sneaky way of saying you want me to carry you?" Finn inquired.

Having been with Rachel since they were in high school, Finn was privy to all his girlfriend's tricks.

Her eyes closed all the way and she slowly nodded her head, smacking her lips together, no doubt in an attempt to quell the dryness left in her mouth by copious amounts of tequila.

Rolling his eyes, Finn took their coats from the young man in charge of the coat room (who was not doing a very good job of keeping a lid on his amusement) and scooped her into his arms, bridal style, thanking baby Jesus that she was so freaking small.

As he struggled with her body in his arms like dead weight, Rachel began singing at an unreasonable volume for that time of night. The slurred lyrics of some awful nineties pop song that Finn didn't remember the name of echoed across the street. He thought it might be by The Backstreet Boys but he couldn't be sure and he had no idea what had caused her to pick it.

He had to put her down so he could hail one of the yellow cabs zooming along the busy New York street.

Rachel was even more unsteady on her feet than when he had picked her up and immediately slumped down to the ground, her butt hitting her pavement in a way that Finn guessed would leave a bruise. The pain of falling on her ass didn't seem to register. In fact, after a small _oomph_, she went right on belting out the bridge of the pop song.

He didn't want to think about what was on the sidewalk she was sitting on. He was positive that, had she been in her right mind, she'd have been absolutely _freaking out_ about all the germs and diseases she was potentially collecting. Luckily he didn't have long to dwell on it as a cab pulled up next to his outstretched hand.

"Come on, baby. Upsy daisy," he urged, lifting her up from beneath her arms.

She finally stopped singing and fell into the cab. Finn climbed in after her, ignoring the knowing look the cab driver was giving him.

"One too many martinis?" the man questioned, tilting his head in Rachel's direction with an irritating smirk on his face.

The minuscule brunette was flailing around, her hair matting against the worn leather of the backseat. She appeared to be oblivious to her surroundings as she hummed under her breath.

"Something like that," Finn replied dryly. He followed up with the address of the apartment he shared with Rachel in Midtown Manhattan, reciting it in a clipped tone that told the cab driver exactly what sort of mood he was in.

"Babyyy?" he heard Rachel say in a tiny voice.

"Yeah?"

She burrowed herself into his side, her dainty hands grabbing up fistfuls of one of his pinstriped button-up shirt. When she spoke again, her words were muffled due to the fact that her face was pressed into his bicep.

"Are you mad at meee?"

Truthfully he was more than a little annoyed, but that wasn't something he could express to his inebriated girlfriend. Even he wasn't _that_ stupid. In such a situation, the truth was more trouble than it was worth.

Not to mention that when she removed her face from his arm and looked up at him through her lashes, his heart automatically melted. She looked so pathetic with her totally messed up hair and smudged make-up that he couldn't bring himself to berate her.

"No, I'm not mad."

"I think you're lying," she said, somehow still managing a matter-of-fact tone through the slur. "I can alllllways tell when you're lying, Finn Hubson."

"Hubson?" he repeated with one eyebrow quirked up.

"Oops! That's not your naaaame!"

Rachel burst out in a fit of giggles.

It was gonna be a long night.

* * *

><p>Forty-three minutes later, the cab finally pulled up outside of Finn and Rachel's apartment complex. They had been intercepted by two separate roadblocks that made the trip twice as long and Finn's level of patience twice as low. During the remainder of the ride home, Rachel had alternated between trying to grope him and repeating his name a bunch of times in various accents.<p>

Needless to say, he'd never been happier to see their familiar building looming in the distance and he was certain the cab driver shared the sentiment. Rachel had begun to serenade Finn with 'You Are My Sunshine' a few blocks back.

Finn handed the cabbie his fare (plus a generous tip to help the man forget the image of Rachel feeling him up) and, once he had exited the taxi, turned around to heave his girlfriend once more into his arms. He figured if he tried letting her walk, it would be morning by the time they got upstairs.

"Thanks man," he said to the driver through the open window of the front passenger's side.

He nodded and replied, "Good luck. That girl seems like a handful."

"You have no idea."

* * *

><p>It took another fifteen minutes to get up to their apartment - which was unfortunately on the fifth floor - because the elevator happened to be out of order. Luck did not appear to be in Finn Hudson's corner.<p>

"You're so strong… and han'some… and brave," Rachel told him as he was climbing up the flight of steps between levels three and four. "You're my heroooo. My Finnyyyy," she continued, patting (but sort of more like slapping) him on the cheek.

Surprise, surprise – that became a song she called 'My Hero Finny', one which accompanied his steps as he (at long _fricking_ last) reached their door.

"Do you think you can stand for me, Rach?" he asked softly, brushing a piece of hair out of her flushed face.

"I'd do any… _anything_ for youuu!" she proclaimed.

He knew she'd probably end up falling on her ass again but in order to open the door and get her into bed, he needed his hands. At least the carpet in their hallway was cleaner than the sidewalk… probably.

As he fished his keys out of his pocket, Rachel leaned up against his back, her cheek smushed up against his shoulder blade and her arms locking into a vice grip around his waist. He was just glad she was staying upright.

It took him a frustrating couple of moments to unlock the door (sometimes, usually when it was _the most_ inconvenient, it liked to jam up) but the feeling of relief he got when the door swung open made it all worthwhile.

"How does a piggyback ride sound?" he asked his girlfriend, who squealed in delight and allowed him to hoist her up by her upper thighs onto his broad back.

"Waitwaitwait," she shrieked into his ear before he got past the threshold. "My shoe…"

Glancing downward, Finn noticed that one of her feet was indeed bare, her dark purple toenails wiggling in the low light of the hall. He let out a groan. Were they ever going to get home?

He located Rachel's black peep-toe pump on the floor and kicked it unceremoniously into the apartment, nearly tripping over the shoe as he stumbled in behind it. Somehow in all the calamity of their entrance, Finn remembered to slide over the deadbolt (this was New York after all) and he headed towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water for the alchie on his back.

He gently set her on top of the small island in front of the fridge, something which under normal circumstances she'd reprimand him for but she didn't seem too concerned with in her current state. He could tell that she was starting to wind down because she'd stopped singing and her eyes kept fluttering closed.

"I dun feel so good…"

Uh oh.

Luckily Finn managed to get her to the bathroom in time, although running with her over his shoulder probably didn't do much to stave off the nausea, and Rachel spent an entire minute emptying the contents of her stomach (which was mostly tequila) into the toilet. Finn sat beside her on the tiled floor, rubbing her back gently and cringing when he knew she couldn't see him.

Finally she shifted from her position over the toilet and leaned back against the wall behind her, exhausted and boneless, tears running down her face.

"This is awful…" she rasped out.

"Oh, baby…" Finn whispered, laying a hand on her leg and stroking the smooth skin just below her knee with his thumb. "Let's get you cleaned up."

As he stood, grabbed a washcloth and ran it under some warm water from the sink, he could hear little whimpers from behind him that broke his heart. It was Rachel's own fault she was such a wreck, but he knew just how gross it felt to drink until you got sick.

"I'm sorry, Finn," he could barely hear her say. Her usually bright voice was hoarse from (ick) throwing up. "You shouldn't have to take care of me when I'm all yucky like this. Guess I'm still a needy drunk…"

"Hey," he replied, lowering himself back to the floor with the damp cloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "I'm your boyfriend; it's my job to take care of you. And maybe you are a needy drunk… but I don't mind. It's kind of cool to be needed, especially by you."

He handed her the glass and she gave him a watery smile in return. Tenderly he began to wipe away her smudged make-up and tears (and other things he really didn't want to dwell on). Once she was cleaned up, her face a little raw but now fresh looking, he waited for her to drink the whole glass of water before he gathered her into his arms again.

Rachel began to hiccup as he sat her down on the edge of their bed, sharp little tiny peeps that were actually really adorable.

"Arms," he said softly and she did as he instructed, lifting her slender arms above her head so he could remove her dress. They fell immediately back to her sides and she flopped over onto the mattress. He decided to forgo attempting to put actual pyjamas on her. All the lifting and carrying (even though his girlfriend was tiny) had sapped his energy and he felt about as tired as Rachel looked.

It took him less than a minute to strip down to his boxers, climb into bed and pull Rachel's limp form into his arms. In spite of being practically unconscious, she snuggled deep into his chest.

"Finn?" she whispered just as he was about to drift off.

"Yeah, Rach?"

"I love your face."

He had to laugh a little; she was so damn cute, drunk or not.

"I love your face too."


End file.
